


Recovery

by Aifsaath



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin leaves the Order, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming of Age, Communication kink, Emotional Constipation, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Tatooine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 23:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aifsaath/pseuds/Aifsaath
Summary: The day Anakin realizes he can't stand being a Jedi anymore is one of the most painful in Obi-Wan's life. Anakin wishes he didn't need to hurt his master, but he must do it to save his mother - and to save his own sanity.Neither one realizes that they can't really live without each other.Based onthis post





	Recovery

Today their world is going to crash down. Neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan has a clue that this innocuous moment marks the end of his seven-year-long apprenticeship.

Barriss Offee and the philosophy class. Her voice, sweet and meek, discusses the intricacies of the belandrian free will theorem. She talks in a hush, lulling melody, something that reminds Anakin of lullabies his mother used to hum at nights when the sands cooled down and the air was filled with the chirr of locusts. Soothing and soft, like a river flowing around him is her voice making them forget about the reality of the day. He almost dozes off, never paying any real attention to her words.

Today their world is about to crash down.

“…And given the nature of neural pathways, and the way information is processed in biological systems, the mere assumption that there is anything such as a free will, which is, per se, the ability to make decisions without any input of the past, is rendered incorrect. From this standpoint, we’re nothing but slaves of our past.”

 _That_ word grates like sand in Mos Eisley. It crawls inside him, scratching at wounds barely healed until they bleed again and drown him in the times long past.

Perhaps, she meant no harm when she said that. Anakin is almost sure. Barriss blinks in panic, as if she could not believe she has just committed such a faux pas. But the way everyone’s eyes turn to him with a silent expectation of a tantrum makes his blood boil. He would love to scratch their eyes out, so he can hide from them forever. ( _Once a slave, always a slave,_ said a padawan once.) His cheeks burn hot red and he cannot stay there anymore.

He does _not_ flee. It is only a tactical retreat.

Today their world crashes down. The cracks were already there. Now they widen with painful screeches, web-like crevices spreading through the surface of his memory. Tatooine calls and Anakin fakes deafness no more.

. . .

They have a row that evening. Obi-Wan tries to cajole him to calm down and _talk._ But Anakin cannot, he cannot, they know, _know_ , whenever they see him, they know the shame the Hutts carved into him in the faraway sands of Tatooine. Anakin will never be free of their hold, not really, no matter what Master says, no matter what any of the Jedi say – _they do not know._ Qui-Gon gave him an empty promise and now he is left only with Obi-Wan inflamed with grief and crowds of disdainful glares searching for any mistake.

The next week another fight follows. It lacks the qualities of their favourite ones that run hot and quick and die out as fast as they flare up. Those are like lovers’ spats, they yell at each other and the next moment they are the best friends again, everything forgiven, dear one. A rainstorm clearing the air.

This one runs slow, a stream of lava deceptively covered in grey ash. One word at a time. A remark here. A sarcastic retort there. Obi-Wan drinks from a cup and Anakin hates the perceived serenity of his gesture, the carelessness as if he did not feel at least partially to blame for his misery. Being here is like having an invisible hand wrapped around his neck, holding him steady and firmly, never letting him hide away to lick his wounds. Anakin is needlessly nasty, he must admit. He has never suspected himself to be so cruel like he is in that very morning. Obi-Wan’s blank face when he hurls insults at him gives away everything. He wants to stop, truly, but the rage and guilt flaunt him like a marionette.

 _“Why do you even care? It’s not like you wanted me as your padawan. You just_ inherited _me from Qui-Gon. Leave me alone. You can have all the peace you wanted again. Are you happy, now?”_

Obi-Wan turns chalk white and Anakin wants to vomit. He hides away. Does not return to his room in Obi-Wan’s quarters. Instead, he sleeps in the dorms for the next three days. He does not even sneak to their apartment for a fresh set of clothes. He cannot bear to look at his Master’s face.

Obi-Wan does not try to drag him back.

He is a slave. That has never changed, Anakin muses at night bundled in thin blankets on the rather uncomfortable bunk bed, listening to the rhythmic breaths of fellow Jedi. Inside the steel ribs encasing the _padawan Skywalker_ persona cowers still the rat boy from Tatooine, the little traitor who left his mother to dry among the dirt and hunger. Barriss only tore down the charade he put himself in.

For him there is no peace in the Order left.

The next day Anakin hands in his formal resignation.

. . .

Anakin watches everything crash down with the silent fascination of a stunned bantha that is about to get hit by a speeder. He and Master were summoned to the Council room for the last time forever, but Obi-Wan does not know that yet. Anakin memorizes the older man’s profile, the way sunlight trickles in his hair and eyes, paints him copper and gold, as he stands in front of the circle of his superiors, expecting all but betrayal. Anakin will miss the tension in Obi-Wan’s neck, the way he holds his head high whenever he braces himself for another set of complaints against his padawan. The calm, steady hands. The amusement that is always hidden in his eyes, because as much as Anakin’s antics are infuriating to the Council, Obi-Wan finds them funny as hell. _Best friends again, everything forgiven, dear one,_ he longs to hear. But Anakin has already stabbed him in the back, only Obi-Wan is hopeful and naïve and unaware. Nothing will be forgiven anymore.

Will he ever understand that he needs to escape before he loses his mind? That he cannot stay in the middle of plenty when his mother has nothing to eat, nothing to hope for, that he is a slave in all but name, and his mother claims not even that. That he feels like the biggest shitstain whenever he cleans a plate full of food. That nothing he does, nothing he achieves can excuse that he has _left her._ That seven years have passed and Ani Skywalker is still the frightened kid that just puts on bravado. Yoda sees right through him and that knowledge leaves Anakin oh so naked.

Master Windu does not deliver the news gently. Obi-Wan blinks in confusion.

“Excuse me, but that must be an administrative error. This is the first time I am hearing about this issue. There is no way-”

“Skywalker, have you not informed knight Kenobi about your intention?”

“Anakin?”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“ _You are sorry?_ ” Obi-Wan hisses. _“Sorry, you say?”_

Anakin locks his eyes with his. There are no words to make it better, so he remains.

“Is this your final decision?” Master’s voice is deceptively velvet-like, smooth even when he wants to scream; Anakin recognizes the rage lurking in the pretence though it has never been targeted at him before. He finds himself nodding. Master’s eyes turn into burning ice. Anakin is trapped in a fever dream. “Very well. If that is all you needed to inform me, Masters, I shall return to my quarters.”

Obi-Wan does _not_ storm off. He bows and walks away, as if nothing has just happened. He is graceful and calm. Anakin bolts behind him. He catches Obi-Wan’s wrist the moment the door to the Council room is closed. Obi-Wan wrangles himself free.

“ _Not now!”_ he spats out, his breath heavy. “Force, Anakin…” He presses his lips into a firm pale line. Seconds pass and Anakin dares not to exhale. “How… Why…?” Obi-Wan shuts down and glares at the spot somewhere behind Anakin’s ear. “Do not make me say anything we will both regret now. We will talk later.”

Anakin watches his Master’s back with the invisible blood-red flower blooming between his shoulder blades. He stands in the corridor long after Obi-Wan left.

. . .

Anakin enters their apartment, walks into the kitchen. It is late in the evening and Obi-Wan did not bother to cook the today’s dinner. There is only a takeout from Dex’s to eat. Obi-Wan shoots him a glare before he thrusts a plate with _something disgustingly healthy_ (how the hell did he get that at _Dex’s?!_ ) in front of Anakin.

“Eat.”

Anakin sits down, meekly, and seizes the fork. He has not eaten for the three days he has spent in the dormitory; the dread from facing his Master was satiating enough. But Obi-Wan would not take that as an answer and Anakin would rather use his mouth for chewing than for explaining the mess to his friend. _(Are they even friends anymore?)_ He does not doubt Obi-Wan knows about his self-imposed fast.

Obi-Wan takes the seat opposite Anakin. He is dead quiet while Anakin works through the vegetables. The grey-blue gaze pierces the boy. It makes the hair on his neck stand still, as if he were a prey and his master a hunter.

“I’m full,” he murmurs and shoves the plate away. He does not dare to look up to Obi-Wan’s eyes, afraid of what he will find and find not.

Obi-Wan’s fingers dance impatiently on the wooden desk. The rhythm gets angrier and angrier. Anakin stops himself from flinching. The first one who speaks is Obi-Wan.

“Is there any rational reason why you did not consider me worthy of any explanation or warning at least? Or did you think that the Council would just let you disappear and that I would not notice your sudden absence?”

“No,” Anakin murmurs. “I just didn’t know- “

“You _did not know_. “Master chuckles, his tone cheerless.  “How wonderful! You did not know, so you just let me walk there with no idea, no clue that you consider my duty towards you so worthless -”

 _“Let me finish_! I didn’t know how to tell you, that’s why! I guessed you’d be pissed-“

“Trust me, Anakin, you have no idea how _angry_ I am right now.”

“Kriffing hell, Master, can you _shut up for a moment-“_

“But I am _not_ your master, Anakin. Was this not the point?”

Anakin sees red.

“ _What did you just say?!”_

He jumps from his seat so bluntly the chair collapses with a loud crash. Obi-Wan glares at him, a cold fury written in his face, yet he does not move a muscle.

“You never listen whenever I try to tell you anything!” he explodes. “You always dismiss me or you turn it into a lecture or you just say that _it’s the will of the Force_ or whatever bantha crap _you_ want to believe!”

“Anakin-“

“And now you’re not even letting me explain why! It’s just easier for you to act as if I’m leaving the Order just to spite you.” _Force,_ he is going to cry. “But guess what, Obi-Wan, I can’t _stand_ being here. I _hate_ it here. I stayed because of you.”

Finally, _finally_ , master gets up from his chair and steps closer, until he can reach to him. Master’s palms are dry and warm on his wrists.

“The Council was right about me from the start. I should’ve never come here. I’ve left _my own mother on fucking Tatooine_ to wave glowing swords and play tea parties with cretins I loathe. I haven’t seen her for seven years and you all treat me as a failure just because I miss her. I don’t know if she’s even alive. And you – you gave me that food and I threw it…” He is weeping now. “Do you know what it’s like to measure every cup of water that smells like piss because you’ve got no way to know if your owner won’t get mad for whatever reason and take away your water rations for the next day?  Every time masters give me a lecture about restrain and gluttony, in my mind I’m back on Tatooine. Which earns me another lecture about letting go of the past. Nothing I do will ever be enough for you people. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be reduced to a thing? To be someone else’s cattle? Of course you don’t. That’s why it’s so easy for you to use it as a _fucking_ metaphor in a shitty essay.”

He grips the man’s shoulders. He cares not that his grip is strong enough to leave blue marks on Obi-Wan’s pale skin.

“You must realize,” Obi-Wan says, voice heavy, “that once you walk out, there is no coming back.”

“How can I stay here and live with myself?”

“Why didn't you tell me anything? I thought you trusted me.”

“I was afraid to go alone.”

“Oh, Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s hands leave their grip on his wrists. Move up, up, until he curls his fingers behind Anakin’s neck.

“I promised Qui-Gon that I will train you with or without the Order. You would have never been alone, dear one.”

“I couldn’t take away _your_ home.”

Anakin does not protest when his Master scoops him in his arms. His body is limp and worn out, a rag in wind. Obi-Wan’s embrace soothes him like balm. Seven years too late, Anakin allows himself to sob. It is almost painful; the violent way air escapes his lungs. Obi-Wan caresses his hair, shoulders, back. Whispers that it is alright, to let it all go.

“I’m so sorry I left you in the dark. I didn’t know how to tell you that without hurting you.”

“Well, that was a brilliant idea, Anakin. But it matters no more.”

Anakin giggles hysterically.

“I’ll miss you. _Stars_ , I’ll miss you.”

Obi-Wan _freezes._

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going alone.”

“Have you gone completely mad? You are only seventeen! How can you think that I would let you run amok around the Outer Rim with a good conscience?!”

“I’m not dragging you with me. I need to know I can manage on my own. Without your help. Obi-Wan, _please_ , don’t follow me.”

He does not say aloud what lies heavy in his mind; that he is afraid to show his only friend what depths he is willing to go to ensure his mother’s freedom.

Obi-Wan steps back and suddenly Anakin shivers with cold. _I hurt him again_ , the boy realizes as he watches his master walk to his bedroom. It takes far too long for Anakin not to panic before Obi-Wan returns with a small box in his hands.

“You can stuff the notion about me not helping into your certain orifice, dear one. If you are so hell bent on this foolishness, you _will_ take this.”

Anakin opens the box.

A comm and-

“I can’t take this.”

“You _can_ and you _will_. I have no need of it.”

“Obi-Wan, this is _your personal money!”_

“Did you expect me to give you Quinlan’s?” Obi-Wan cocks his eyebrow. “It should be enough for a month if you deny yourself lodging in five star hotels.”

 _He gave me all he had._ Jedi are not paid a wage. All they get is the monthly allowance that covers one’s personal interests and creates a neat legal leeway to protect themselves from accusations of forced unpaid labour.

“And do not dare to even think about leaving the lightsabre behind in the last attempts at theatrics, dear one. You made the weapon. It belongs to you. And I am quite curious how long it will survive, given the fact that it will be your _last_ lightsabre. Maybe the last ever made, if the rumours that you have depleted the crystal caves of Illum prove to be true.”

Perhaps, Obi-Wan wanted to add another flowery excuse behind which he hid his own worry for him. Anakin gives him no chance as he grabs the man in a bone crushing embrace.

“Try not to get yourself killed. I won’t be around to save you again.”

“Anakin, every time there was a need of my saving, it was because of a certain pathologically curious padawan provoking a large carnivorous animal.”

Anakin clasps him tighter, as tight as he dares. He needs to impress this last moment into his memory.  And a long while later, they break the embrace, too embarrassed by the display.

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

. . .

The Order, for all its faults, does not leave the strays to fend for themselves. They are given the last boon, as they call it. A ticket back home, if you cannot take the strain of the service anymore.

 _Don’t look back_ , said Shmi that fateful day.

Anakin looks only forward.


End file.
